


Everyone Makes Mistakes

by SpaceLord



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen, Necromancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceLord/pseuds/SpaceLord
Summary: Necromancy doesn't always go the way you expect it to.





	Everyone Makes Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last year for a Christmas gift exchange. As such, Dey is not my creation! But she was very fun to write :)

The preparations had taken a long while; the research, even longer. It turned out that saving up to acquire the suitably extravagant diamond the ritual called for was the easy part. Finding the soon to be not-so-final-resting-place of the target? Now that took  _ work _ .

Despite being known among various circles of magic users, and even some non-magic ones, the remains of the late Nikodemus Grimtol were surprisingly difficult to locate. But after pouring over countless historical records and conducting expeditions to several different places, Dey finally found the tombstone engraved with the correct name and date.

She currently found herself in a particularly secluded area. There were only a handful of graves here, hardly enough to be called a proper graveyard. Nikodemus, it seemed, had requested to be buried near his place of birth. The nearby town was all but desolate. Not that Dey minded. One of the perks of the gravesite being so out of the way was that no one was likely to disturb her for the duration of the ritual. Large graveyards were often too crowded for this sort of thing. People see you hovering around a tombstone without any flowers or gifts and assume you must be a graverobber. Well, it’s hardly grave robbing if the person gets up and leaves of their own volition, now is it?

With practiced motions, Dey laid out the materials in their proper places. Once she was satisfied that everything was where it should be, she made sure to get into a comfortable position and started reciting the spell.

The hour dragged on. There was no passing the time with idle thoughts and fantasies. All of her attention had to put into casting the spell, lest she wanted to sit there for an hour more. Any nagging thoughts of doubt had to be pushed back. What if he didn’t want to come back? What if the recorded dates were wrong, and he’d been dead for over a century? What if he didn’t remember any of his research?

_ Should’ve worried about that  _ **_before_ ** _ starting _ , Dey thought to herself before willing the intrusive thoughts away. She’d already put this much time and effort into trying to bring back Nikodemus, she wasn’t going to turn back now.

Time continued at a pace that had to be slower than normal, but, as with all things, the ritual eventually came to an end. Dey opened her eyes and stared intently at the coffin she’d dug up earlier. The lid had been opened and a large piece of cloth draped over the remains inside; the spell might restore one’s body, but the long since disintegrated clothing was gone for good. She’d learned the hard way that it was best to cover the deceased up in case they weren’t  _ decent  _ when they arose.

Something shifted under the cloth. Dey held her breath as the figure beneath began to sit up. The cloth slid down from their face and chest and gathered in their lap. They looked… not quite like she’d expected. Multiple records of Nikodemus had described him as being gnomish in nature, but this man looked a great deal more like a dwarf. Really, it was the thick beard that threw her off. But gnomes were also known to grow that sort of facial hair, so it was silly to think it looked out of place.

Why did it feel like she was trying to convince herself of something?

Dey shifted to sitting on her knees as the other brought a hand to his head and tried to get his bearings. He either hadn’t noticed her or was ignoring her for the moment. With a hint of hesitation, Dey quietly said, “Nikodemus? How are you feeling?”

He sat frozen with his head in his hand for a few more moments. Then he slowly looked up at her for the first time. Dey was finally able to get a better look at him: physically, he seemed well and not like he’d just been a rotted away corpse a few minutes beforehand, but there was a dazed look about him. It was like he couldn’t quite process what was going on.

“What?”

“I said, how are you feeling?”

A groan was the initial response. “Like shit.” Understandable. “And who are you?”

“My name’s Dey. I brought you back to life.” She didn’t try to hide that bit of pride that seeped into the last part.

“Figured. I was dead for a while, wasn’t I?”

There was a beat of silence. “Well,” Dey started, “That’s one way of putting it. It’s been nearly a century if the records I found are correct.” 

It must’ve been a lot to take in as he didn’t offer any sort of reply. 

The silence stretched much longer than Dey was comfortable with. Sure, coming back to life was an ordeal and could even potentially cause someone to go into shock, but there was business to attend to. After all, she didn’t go through the process of reversing death itself for kicks.

“I know it’s a lot to process, although part of you must have wanted to come back, otherwise the spell wouldn’t have worked… Anyway, what I mean to say is, there’s a reason I went to such lengths to bring you back to life.” She shifted in place again and thought of how to word the next part. “In historical records of mages who made breakthroughs in the arcane arts, your name comes up fairly often. But there aren’t any published texts by you, and none of your notes have ever been found, no one’s even been able to continue anything you left unfinished after you died--”

He put a hand up and Dey stopped herself mid-sentence. Her eyes wide, she waited to hear his response.

“What are you talking about?”

Whatever revelation she’d thought he was about to reveal, that was certainly not it. She floundered momentarily before she managed to find her voice again. “Your-- your work. Your research into magic.”

He looked at her as though she’d sprouted multiple heads. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never even cast a spell in my life.”

“But,” Dey’s mind raced as she thought back to all that research she’d done in preparation for this, “There are accounts of it from reliable sources! Well documented accounts! You’re Nikodemus Grimtol!”

“What, me? No. Nikodemus was that fella that got himself blown up from one of his experiments. I’m Timur.”

She stared blankly at him.  _ Timur _ ? “But then why is your grave marked as ‘Nikodemus Grimtol’?”

Timur shrugged, entirely too unbothered by everything. “Not a clue. Wasn’t my idea or anything. Maybe someone wanted something to bury, since there was nothing left of Nikodemus.”

Dey’s entire form slumped as she stared at Timur. Eventually, she covered her face with her hands and continued to sit in her deflated state. All that work… all that time spent… and instead of getting a blossoming mind of the arcane arts that died before getting a chance to shine, she got some strange man who couldn’t even cast a spell.

Was this karma for something she’d previously done?

The sound of Timur clearing his throat brought her back to the present. She peeked through her fingers at him, “Yes?”

“I don’t mean to be a bother, but did you happen to bring some spare clothes? I’d rather not have to wear this.” He gestured to the cloth that covered his lap, a sheepish expression on his face.

With a sigh, Dey forced herself up from her spot on the ground and retrieved her bag of things. A bundle of clothing was tossed to Timur a few moments later. Dey kept her back to him to give him some privacy while he changed. Once finished, he approached her side. “Now what?”

Dey rubbed at her temples. She could foresee a headache coming on in the near future. “Now, we find somewhere that sells alcohol and drink more than is advisable.”

He laughed and gave her a surprisingly hearty clap on the back for someone so recently returned to life. “There’s an idea I can get behind!”


End file.
